


A High, Rapturous Song

by Saucery



Series: The Sterek Porn Collection [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Abusive Relationships, Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Amorality, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Blow Jobs, Cock Slapping, Consent Issues, D/s, Dark, Dark!Derek, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dominance, Ephebophilia, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, Forbidden, Fucked Up, Headmaster, M/M, Masochism, Mild S&M, Moral Bankruptcy, No Werewolves, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Oral Sex, Painplay, Porn, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Rough Sex, Sadism, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Submission, Teacher-Student Relationship, Teenagers, Triggers, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 03:16:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/657437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saucery/pseuds/Saucery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is a headmaster. Stiles is his favorite delinquent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A High, Rapturous Song

* * *

 

They all say he's too young to be a headmaster, that he's too wild, that he has too much of a reputation - and in this town, any reputation's a bad reputation. They say his wearing jeans to work means he's trying to be too chummy with the students, that he won't be able to establish authority over them, that the fact he sometimes fixes his bike on his lawn while shirtless is obscene and sets a poor example, that his taste in music is radical, and that he is - for all intents and purposes - the Antichrist.

If it weren't a private school and if all the board members weren't employees at various Hale subsidiaries, Derek would be out of a job.

As it is, the Hales have been headmasters and headmistresses of the school for nearly one century, and the board doesn't want to break with tradition, yet.

They might, though, if they knew that Derek _is_ the Antichrist.

Worse than the Antichrist, maybe.

Because the truth is, Derek's unsuited for the position of headmaster for reasons more serious than his sense of fashion.

He's unsuited because he _wants_ things.

Boys.

A boy.

He's unsuited for the position because there's this one student he not only wants to fuck, but _does_ fuck, on a more-or-less regular basis. The kid's name is Stiles, and he's sixteen, and he's so illegal that Derek should feel guilty about it, but he doesn't. There's just something about Stiles, something that raises Derek's hackles, makes him angry and hot and starved, makes him want to shove the kid down on his knees and teach him where his place is.

It's -

He could go to jail for this.

He _should_ go to jail for this.

He doesn't.

Miraculously, he doesn't, no matter how many times he has Stiles, no matter how many times he bends Stiles over the desk and spreads open Stiles's ass and licks him until he sobs. No matter how many times he gags Stiles with his own rolled-up shirt to muffle Stiles's screams.

Derek is beginning to realize that he might be a sociopath. He's wondered, before, about his coldness, about his ability to fake a smile (so like his uncle), about his ability to charm, when he puts his mind to it, regardless of whether or not he likes the person he's charming. But now, for the first time, he realizes that he's a predator, that he always has been one, filled with a lupine craving to rend and destroy and devour, and now, he's found the perfect prey. Prey that won't run away from him.

And the best thing is that Stiles keeps coming back to him, with worse misdemeanors each time, almost as though he _wants_ a brutal fucking, wants to be choked slowly while he's fucked, wants the bruises bitten into his thighs, wants the dry handjobs that almost make him cry.

He keeps coming back, like he did today, and now he's where he belongs, on his knees, under Derek's desk, rubbing his cheek against the denim on Derek's thighs.

"You like that?" Derek asks, and runs his fingers through the short hair that Stiles keeps cropped, as if that'll stop Derek from holding him still and fucking his throat, if Derek wants to. "You like how rough that denim is? Maybe I oughta spank you until you're red and fuck you with my jeans still on, so you can feel that roughness against your sore little ass. You like the sound of that?"

"I like what you like, sir," says Stiles, like an obedient pet, but his eyes glitter with want, and his mouth is bright and flushed, his lips moist where he licks them. A glistening, silky sheen.

Derek wants that silk on him, around him, so he urges Stiles forward with a hand on Stiles's nape, a thumb stroking the warm skin there, being gentle about it because he wants to be, because he wants to watch his cock stretch Stiles's mouth open, gradually, wants to watch the boy take it and take it and try not to choke. He will, eventually. He still isn't trained enough to know how to take it all.

Still, it's a nice ride. Derek eases back in his seat and lets the kid do all the work, lets him suck Derek's dick the way Derek's taught him, lets him drool around the base of Derek's cock and trail cooling saliva all the way to the tip, lets him lap lazily at the slit and work his way down again, patiently, picking up on the fact that this is how Derek wants it, today. God, Stiles is so intuitive - so _right_ -

"Sir?" That's his middle-aged secretary, Lisa something, knocking at the door.

"Yes?" Derek curls his fingers around Stiles's jaw, presses there lightly, a reminder to be quiet.

"I have some expense forms for you to sign, sir."

"Come in."

And she does, blousy and bustling as usual, a cross around her neck. If she knew who was under his desk, doing what, she'd probably faint. Or squeal like a stuck pig, and then faint. Derek imagines it in some detail, reading each document absent-mindedly before signing it, the flourish of his hand confident but his palms just ever-so-slightly sweaty, because he's getting hot, now, because he's getting close.

Stiles - the devil - is making sure not to suck too loudly, not to slurp, but he's also essentially gagging himself on Derek's cock, in order to stay silent. His mouth _pulses_ around Derek's erection, in a way Derek hadn't actually thought was possible until now, but basically means that Stiles is trying to breathe around him - trying and mostly failing - and just the image of that alone is nearly enough to make Derek come.

"Sir," says Lisa, "wasn't the boy in here, a while ago? Stilinski?"

"I sent him out back," Derek gestures to the second door opening onto the rear of the school grounds, "to clean up all that garbage."

"Oh, you're too kind, sir. For breaking the windshield of your car - what was the boy thinking?"

"What, indeed?" Derek smiles, and nudges Stiles with one thigh.

Lisa titters at him, and it takes Derek a moment to realize that it's at his smile. Just as seductive as ever, apparently.

Derek hands the papers back to her, still smiling, and lifts his hips a bit, thrusting shallowly into Stiles's mouth. Stiles _does_ choke, but keeps it muffled, the breath from his nostrils fast and desperate.

Lisa thanks Derek for the signatures, waves in a ridiculous 'too-da-loo' gesture and leaves the room.

Derek immediately returns his grip to the back of Stiles's head and _fucks_ , vicious and hard, until tears spring to Stiles's eyes, wetting his lashes, and his face blushes the sort of ugly, blotchy color that presages Stiles's orgasm, as well.

So the brat's been touching himself. He's been -

"Take it," says Derek, "but if you come now, you won't come at all, tomorrow. You'll hurt too much to come."

Stiles pulls back to slur, "Make it hurt, sir, make it _hurt_ \- " before Derek drags him back onto his dick and finishes coming in Stiles's throat, staying there until Stiles swallows every last drop.

And then, the moment Stiles is done, Derek hauls him up, catching Stiles with his pants around his own knees and his boxer-shorts shoved under a bobbing erection, leaking pre-come, seconds away from coming. Derek grips it at the bottom and squeezes, hard enough to earn a pained grunt from Stiles, and then _spanks_ it, with the back of his other hand, slaps it and slaps it until Stiles's near-soundless grunts threaten to become audible, until Stiles's thin, continuous whine threatens to grow too loud.

"Gag yourself," Derek says, and immediately, Stiles's wrist flies to his mouth, stifling himself with his too-long uniform sleeve, and then, Derek turns Stiles around until he's facing the desk and flips the pad for a clean sheet of paper for Stiles to come on. He presses Stiles's dick down until it lies against the pad - agonized, swollen and dark against the white paper - and resumes slapping it, lifting his hand away when Stiles moans near-silently and tries to arch into it, returning only when Stiles stills himself and wheezes and tries, desperately, not to come.

He doesn't last long, even with the pain, and Derek watches Stiles's semen hit the pad, hears it spatter the paper, and then forces Stiles to bend and lick it clean.

"Did that hurt enough?" he asks, when Stiles is done, his eyes hazy and empty and swept clean of all thought, at ease at last, not twitchy and restless like he is, most of the time.

"Yeah," Stiles rasps, "no," and turns to sway forward for a kiss.

Derek lets him - enjoys the taste of their mingled come in Stiles's mouth - and then pushes Stiles away, firmly, so that the boy can get dressed.

Stiles pulls his trousers up and zips them, while Derek crumples up the sheet of soaked-through paper and throws it in the trash-can.

"That was your homework," Derek says. "You failed, by the way. Not only that, but you were too busy sucking cock to clean the schoolyard, like I told you."

"What a terrible student I am," Stiles drawls, voice still hoarse. "I suppose I have more homework? And another detention?"

"Your homework is keeping yourself open with the plug I gave you, last time."

Stiles bites his lower lip. Buckles his belt. Hm. A promising accessory… "And? My detention?"

"Here. After school. With the plug still inside you."

"And if I don't listen?" Stiles blinks at him innocently. "What then, sir?"

"Then I suppose your belt will be put to more uses than was initially intended."

"Those unimaginative belt-manufacturing guys," Stiles shakes his head. "Thank god for us, huh?"

"Leave."

"Gotcha, Headmaster. Thanks for the lesson."

"No problem. Watch yourself, now. Any further damage to my car comes out of your hide."

"Ouch," says Stiles, feelingly, but his eyes are dipping again, his smirk widening. "See ya later, sir."

"Goodbye, Mr. Stilinski."

And Stiles is out, just like that, closing the door behind him.

Derek sits back down in his chair, toys with the paperweight for a while, thinking, and then resumes his work.

Running a school isn't easy, after all. It requires concentration. Paperwork. Bureaucracy. All things that Derek feels more ready to face, now that he's had his daily fix.

One of these days, he'll call up Stiles's father and tell him what a nuisance his son is being. Derek practically has to; it's getting suspicious that he hasn't spoken to Stiles's dad, already. (Lisa certainly thinks he should make that call, even if she hasn't said anything about it.)

So. Complaining to the parent. Who, despite being the sheriff, is still a _parent_. Saying to that parent that excess detentions might be required. To catch up on crucial coursework, of course, given Stiles's frequent truancy - and Derek is being generous enough to offer his own time to mentor the kid, isn't he nice? Not a bad headmaster, at all.

Something good for his reputation. Something good for his libido. Something good for _Stiles_ , because god knows the kid needs structure. Even if it's structure in which he gets fucked on the regular. Those eyes, that mouth, that ass - they're asking for it.

Perhaps Derek will use that belt, after all, even if Stiles _does_ do his homework.

Discipline is important.

 

* * *

**  
fin.**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Like my writing? Check out [my blog](http://saucefactory.tumblr.com/)!


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